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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022040">find me among the aspen trees</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/benwvatt/pseuds/benwvatt'>benwvatt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>each and every universe [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, christmas tree salesman AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:07:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/benwvatt/pseuds/benwvatt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She’s actively trying not to like Jake 一 she knows his name, so she can stop calling him ‘cute Christmas tree seller’ in her head 一 because she’s had her fair share of failed crushes. It isn't working, though.</i>
</p><p>In which Jake sells Christmas trees, Amy works at NYU, they had one good encounter a month ago and now Amy is desperately in love with the guy who sells aspen and fir trees down the block.</p><p>She's pining, you could say.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>each and every universe [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/754962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This, without a doubt, is the strangest reason Amy’s ever wished winter were longer.</p><p>It’s been a month since she began walking past the christmas tree farm on her way to work. At first, it was practical. She doesn’t get a lot of exercise giving office hours at NYU, and she likes the scent of the pine needles, crisp against the city smog. And then the Christmas tree salesman held a door for her at Medici’s, the bakery nearby, and she <i>might</i> have gone overboard  getting a table for both of them.</p><p>That was a month ago.</p>
<hr/><p>"What do you mean, you don’t like Die Hard? It’s the best holiday movie ever!”
</p><p>“Hardly. They’re in the building, like, the whole time! You could set it on any other day of the year and it wouldn’t really impact the plot. Ergo, not a Christmas movie.” Amy laughs, then takes another sip of her maple latte.</p><p>She’s actively trying not to like Jake 一 he’s actually given her his name, so she can stop calling him ‘cute Christmas tree seller’ in her head 一 because she’s had her fair share of dreamy crushes. They always fizzle out because she cares too much, memorizes birthdays and siblings’ names when she shouldn’t. But it’s not working. Not when Jake grins like that, not when he hangs up on a friend because he’s “with someone at the moment.”
</p><p>(She’s someone!!!!)
</p><p>“Die Hard is absolutely a Christmas film,” he says, impossible energy in his tone. “Number one, it’s Nakatomi Plaza, not ‘the building.’ Have some respect. Number two, Christmas is … tag-netically related to the plot. You know, when they go to Holly’s house to film for the news, you see the Christmas tree! With the gifts! There we have it, argument over.”</p><p>Jake shifts back confidently, pumping his fist before nearly toppling over in his chair.
</p><p>He gives a scared gasp before catching his breath, still laughing.
</p><p>Amy laughs, face crumpling into the picture of joy. “And, from that last sentence, did you mean tangentially?”
</p><p>“Don’t kick a man while he’s down!”</p>
<hr/><p>She hasn’t spoken a word to him since. He’s a Christmas tree salesman! These are his busy months, she thinks, and she really hopes he isn’t ignoring her.</p><p>So, yes, Amy’s now emotionally obligated to walk past the tree farm every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jake. She usually sees him talking to customers or tying up trees, but he occasionally waves, at least.</p><p>Because the universe hates her, of course, Jake only notices her when she’s wearing something really ratty, like sweatpants. Or, two weeks ago, the orange hand-me-down sweater from cousin Luisa, who just <i>knows</i> that Amy can’t pull off burnt orange. Thanks a lot, Luisa.</p><p>Amy winces at the memory; she usually takes what she can get. No two people just have a great conversation and part ways forever, right? He seemed to like her.</p><p>He might have liked her.</p><p>Oh, she’s really hoping he liked her.</p><p>Amy was planning on asking for his number, she swears, but he’d blurted ‘ugh, my phone died again’ and it’d felt like too much to ask. They’d separated at 81st and 1st. Besides, isn’t asking for a guy’s contact information a little forward? It hadn’t really been a date. It was a chance encounter, nothing more.</p><p>She still wears her Coca Cola sweater, though, as she walks by. It’s what she’d worn that perfect, golden day at Medici’s.</p><p>Jake waves, Amy waves, and she thanks the heavens that she’s finally in something nicer than laundry-day clothing. She feels confident, even, with her boots clicking against the salt-covered sidewalk. These are her <i>I don’t need a job, I don’t need a man, I’ve got new boots</i> boots!</p><p>Someone behind her calls her name.</p><p>Amy nearly gets whiplash turning around (so much for playing it cool, huh?), but it isn’t Jake who’s calling her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“How about this one?” Jake offers. “Balsam fir, six feet tall, pretty respectable price. It’s green-” he smiles when Amy murmurs ‘shocking! I couldn’t tell!’</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Amy Santiago?” A man calls, brushing his hair back in the wind. “Is that you?”</p><p>She turns around, scarf twisting around itself. “Boyle?”</p><p>“Haven’t seen you since Art History 303!” He hugs her then, crushing his scarf against her coat. She and Charles were both TAs for the same class at NYU a handful of semesters ago, but they’ve since taken different positions at the university.</p><p>“What’re you doing here?” she asks.</p><p>“I’m getting a tree for my apartment! I’m gonna ask my girlfriend Vivian to move in with me.”</p><p>Amy winces. “Honey, no. How long have you been dating?”</p><p>“Well, almost two months, but it <i>feels</i> like six,” he boasts. “What d’ya think of this eight-foot Douglas fir?”</p><p>“Well, I think it’s nice, but aren’t your ceilings a little low for that?” Amy asks, gazing up at the top branches of the tree. Her neck hurts, the way she’s straining it in the process. “And anyways, remember what we said about going full Boyle?”</p><p>“How’s everything looking here?” The salesman ambles over, clad in a red parka. “Oh. Hi! Charles!”</p><p>“Jakey!”</p><p>Amy gulps. She has the worst luck, doesn’t she?</p><p>“Amy!” Jake pulls his hood down and turns to her. “You’re here too!”</p><p>“Uh, I am. How do you know Charles?” She sticks her hands in her pockets, all faux nonchalance. Like a cheery <i>what a coincidence!</i> and a little less <i>why didn’t I get your number when I had the chance???</i></p><p>“We used to work together,” Charles says, eyes bright. Those are his matchmaker eyes, Amy thinks. She’s definitely getting a ‘you clearly like him!’ lecture later.</p><p>“Nine ‘til five, telemarketing. We’d sell toner out of those cramped cubicles. Remember Earl?”</p><p>“Earl!” Charles chuckles.</p><p>Sure, like repeating it will make it funnier, Amy thinks. It sucks to get left out of inside jokes. “Who’s Earl?” she asks.</p><p>“He was the office manager. A real Eeyore, I swear. I dunno why? We all appreciated him like crazy. Best boss ever. He was employee of the month for, like, half the year,” Jake explains. “Uh, Boyle, how do you know Amy?”</p><p>“Also used to work together! I’ve had a lot of jobs,” Charles says. “Amy and I were both TAs in Professor Kudrow’s class. Lotta late nights and red pens,” and he cracks his knuckles as if a stack of mediocre essays about the Parthenon have appeared in front of him. “We’re still TAs, but we work for different professors now.”</p><p>“Oh.” Jake replies after a beat. “Huh, I never knew that.”</p><p>Is he jealous or just a bad conversationalist? They look the same, blank stares and slow pauses.</p><p>“Anyways, Amy and I were trying to pick out a Christmas tree.” Charles tugs at the pricetag on the eight-foot Douglas fir, and Amy gulps.</p><p>“Charles, you can’t afford this.” She clutches his arm, partly because Boyle’s expenses tend to go off the rails when it comes to any Hallmark-endorsed holiday. <i>Especially</i> Christmas. He’ll need someone to remind him to store money for a rainy day. But also, Amy Santiago plus December in New York equals shivering, and she could use all the warmth she can get.</p><p>“It’s my apartment, I’m moving in with my girlfriend, let me make this decision!” Charles gives the tag and its big Sharpie numbers another look. He winces this time, whispering, “Yeah, I can’t afford this. Any chance I could see some less expensive trees?”</p><p>“You got it. Amy, you coming? It’s your tree too!”</p><p>And that’s how Jake Peralta (cute tree salesman guy!!!) was led to believe that Amy and Charles were dating.</p><p>Amy has terrible luck.</p><hr/><p>“How high are the ceilings in your apartment?”</p><p>“Uh, eight feet?” Charles turns to look at Amy, and she says, “I’d guess like seven.” Amy’s only been there a handful of times, but she remembers the general layout. Two bedrooms, small kitchen, the landlord was his ex-wife’s new boyfriend Hercules. Typical stuff.</p><p>But Jake doesn’t know that Amy hasn’t visited Charles’ apartment in a year. He hasn’t a clue.</p><p>Jake’s kind of having the worst day ever. First he meets Amy, who’s moving in with <i>Boyle,</i> and then he has to spend an hour trying to sell them a perfect Christmas tree to go in their home. What’s next, planning their dates? Taking their picture for the couples’ holiday card they’re going to send out? Babysitting their kids?!</p><p>Okay, maybe he’s getting a little carried away.</p><p>The point is, Amy knows how high Charles’ ceilings are because she’s been to Charles’ apartment multiple times, and soon it will be their apartment. Not his, not hers, a stupid mushy <i>shared apartment.</i> He wants to be happy for them ー Charles is a great guy, and Amy is, well, beautiful and hilarious and amazing at mental math, which shouldn’t even be possible but somehow she’s not braggy about it like most geniuses would be-</p><p>He’s happy for them, alright? As happy as you can be when the girl you like turns up dating someone you know. It’s an awful feeling, and he’s got to hide behind his smile the whole time.</p><p>“So, what kind of tree are you two looking for?” Jake’s customer service voice is much perkier than he remembers.</p><p>“Uh, any type, really. My girlfriend just wants something green. Maybe a tree that’ll live for a whole year? Good for the environment, y’know.”</p><p>It’s a little weird how Charles keeps calling Amy ‘my girlfriend’ when she’s right in front of him, but Jake shrugs. Couples get into that weird honeymoon phase sometimes, where everything is pet names and sunshine.</p><p>“How about this one?” Jake offers. “Balsam fir, six feet tall, pretty respectable price. It’s green-” he smiles when Amy murmurs ‘shocking! I couldn’t tell!’ “-and the tree can be planted outdoors in the spring if you choose to. That way it doesn’t have to get thrown out like the rest of them.”</p><p>“Do you have any botanical fun facts?” Amy asks. She asks this after every tree, and they’ve been through a whole row of them. But she’s so cute, Jake can’t be bothered by it. On the contrary, he’s actually made up a couple bits of trivia just to see that grin on her face. (Only a couple! He’s not a monster. And he’s not very good at making up fake science, anyhow.)</p><p>“Yeah! The Balsam fir is native to Canada, it’s the most fragrant of all Christmas trees, and it’s actually been used as medicine because it contains vitamin C.” Thanks a million, Wikipedia. The trick is to search up the facts quickly before Amy and Charles walk up to the tree. It’s worth it anyhow. Amy beams at him a little, then takes a branch of the tree and whiffs it.</p><p>“Very fragrant indeed. All piney and Christmas-y.”</p><p>“Shocking! I couldn’t tell,” Jake says, and she laughs. </p><p>“Listen, I’m basically on a tour of New York Christmas trees, and I’m no expert! Piney is all the vocabulary I’ve got.”</p><p>But her laugh is so nice, he could talk to her all day.</p><p>“Charles, do you know what this scent is?” Amy rolls her eyes. “He’s a sommelier. They find bouquets of oak and hand-pressed daisy petals everywhere you might look.”</p><p>“Daisy petals?” Jake jokes. Charles hugs the Balsam fir and inhales as much as he can.</p><p>Amy shrugs. “He dragged me to a fancy wine-tasting ceremony once when his date was sick. Just let me warn you, people drinking alcohol aren’t necessarily having fun. These people were high-society and dull as they come, swishing wine around and cleansing their palates.”</p><p>“His date was sick?”</p><p>“Yeah, that was back when he was dating Irene-”</p><p>“This has notes of rosemary in it! Remarkable!” Charles declares.</p><p>Amy nods at Jake, like a ‘let’s move on and stop talking about exes around my boyfriend’ sort of motion. It’s a very distinctive move, okay? He’d recognize it anywhere. </p><p>Huh, so Charles broke up with Irene to date Amy. It occurs to Jake (somewhat selfishly) that, if only Charles had stuck with Irene (or if Irene were to reenter the picture??), Amy might be single.</p><p>Stupid jealousy. Green-eyed monster.</p><p>
  <i>Charles is your friend, Amy is your friend too, and if they’re happy together it’s not your place to meddle with their relationship. They’re moving in together! Let them be happy!</i>
</p><p>“How about this one?” Jake asks, and the customer service voice is back in full swing. “Also a Balsam fir, but a little shorter. This one was damaged in transit, so it’s on sale.”</p><p>He gives Amy a sidelong glance, and she returns the favor with one of her own.</p><p>Pining is all the vocabulary he’s got.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Amy, this guy is a dreamboat. What’s not to like?” </p><p>“If it’s my dreamboat, I’ll choose to board when I want to!” She gulps. “Weird metaphor! Moving on!”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake met Amy a month ago. She was bright-eyed and wearing a t-shirt for some band he’d never heard of, Oh Wonder. But he went home afterward and listened to their first album while he laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling fan. If she liked their music, it was probably good.</p><p>It was.</p><p>It was so catchy he’d sing along while doing the dishes, upbeat until he nearly slipped and fell while dancing in the shower. Amy was the type to like indie music with lyrics that didn’t particularly stick out to you, but when you really dwelled on them they were poetic.</p><p>Jake met her when he held a door for her at Medici’s, the coffeeshop down the street from the Christmas tree lot. There had only been one table left, so they shared it, and she was … the best company. Amy knew how to fold the napkins into paper cranes that ended up sort of crumpled and covered in sprinkles, but she still made it work. It was enough to see the tiny, satisfied grin on her face. She told him she was afraid of whales, and he talked about his antique doll phobia (they’re so creepy and lifeless!) and they laughed about unconventional, irrational fears that didn’t make sense to the general public. And then they joked about avoiding aquariums and this one weird hotel called the Maple Leaf Inn, and she’d murmured “guess I know not to take you there” like she was talking about an actual <i>date</i> and, oh, Jake hoped he wasn’t blushing.</p><p>Well, to put his concerns in order, he hoped he wasn’t overstaying his welcome, he hoped she was single, and <i>lastly,</i> he hoped he wasn’t blushing. Some people flushed soft pink, barely noticeable, like Amy did. Jake was the sort to have one ear turn tomato-red and the other remain pale. (No one talks about asymmetrical blushers. It’s a real problem when it comes to maybe-first dates.)</p><p>“So, I guess I’ll see you around sometime!” he’d said, and he’d taken a left on 81st and 1st while she made a right. Jake wanted to ask for her number, he <i>did,</i> but his phone was dead and he wasn’t about to go scrawl his digits on a scrap of paper.</p><p>In hindsight, leaving his phone number on one of the napkin cranes would’ve been very romantic, but … listen, it probably wasn’t the right time anyways. She was friendly, that was all. No need to ask her out and potentially invade her space. What if she had a boyfriend, or she just wasn’t interested?</p><p>Or maybe Jake missed his shot, and she’d started dating someone else shortly after.</p><p>Jake really regretted (A) not getting her number but also (B) taking a job where he stood out in the cold eight hours a day, selling cumbersome, dying trees that left pine needles <i>everywhere.</i> Jake was especially aware of part B as Charles brushed needles off the back of Amy’s coat.</p><p>“Did you get ‘em all?” she asks, craning her neck.</p><p>“You look fine, Amy!”</p><p>Being single around the holidays was the worst, because you got to watch all the couples do the couple things you weren’t allowed to do: hand-holding, snow-angel-making, hot-chocolate-drinking.</p><p>(Sorry. It’s really easy to throw yourself a pity party when you see a missed opportunity you didn’t take.)</p><p>Charles decides to go with the Balsam fir. “I really wanted a Canadian tree, it turns out! My girlfriend’s moving to Ontario next year, and it’d be a nice touch for our last year in New York.”</p><p>Great. Just great. So not only were two of his friends dating, but they were moving out of the country and out of his life. He’d never see them again, would he? They’d have a stupid perfect Canadian wedding and raise moose-riding, maple-syrup-tapping children in some sparkling winter lodge.</p><p>(Stop making this about you, Jake!)</p><p>“Hey, that’s so cool! How come you’re moving to Ontario?” he asks Amy.</p><p>She pauses. “Uh, I’m not? Charles’ girlfriend Vivian is moving. And it’s not even confirmed if Charles is going to Canada, because he hasn’t even asked her to <i>move in yet.</i>” Jake figured those last few words were for Boyle’s sake and not his.</p><p>“Oh, sorry! I guess I just assumed you guys were, uh, together,” Jake admits. Good job, dude. Now he had to stumble his way out of this misconception.</p><p>“You thought Amy and I were a thing? No way, I’m not her type. She likes tall guys.” Boyle laughs, slowing the last few words of his sentence. “Listen, Ames, I am <i>so</i> moving to Ontario next year. Watch and wait.”</p><p>Her type?</p><p>“Uh, yeah, Charles and I are just friends.” Amy rocks back and forth on her feet. “And apparently, he thinks he’s moving to Canada with Vivian. Ambitious plans, I tell ya.”</p><p>Everything inside of her cringes. <i>I tell ya?</i></p><p>Wind sweeps through the lot of Christmas trees, creating a dry rustle, and Jake coughs. “Well! Let’s get that Balsam fir back to your apartment, Charles. I’ll just get your paperwork ready,” and he walks off into the dusty white tent where Terry keeps the documents.</p><p>“Charles!” she hisses. “My type? Tall guys?! Really?”</p><p>“Amy, this guy is a dreamboat. What’s not to like?” </p><p>“If it’s my dreamboat, I’ll choose to board when I want to!” She gulps. “Weird metaphor! Moving on!”</p>
<hr/><p>After they’d wrapped up Charles’ tree, signed the paperwork and set up delivery (and no, the Jeffords Christmas tree farm had no way of gift-wrapping the tree, especially not in Canadian-flag-themed wrapping paper??), Charles had gone home. Finally. Not to be all good riddance, because Boyle was a good friend, but Amy was plenty glad that he’d left.</p><p>“So, um, it was really nice to see you today,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.</p><p>“Yeah, you too. I, uh, guess I’ll see you around?” Jake packs up another tree while he has time to spare. Nine feet, Douglas fir, getting sent off to the Dozerman family.</p><p>Amy smiles. “Yes. Around. I will see you … around. Unless you want to, um-” Her hands are shaking. “Wanna go to Medici’s sometime?” Asking people out to places you’ve already been on sorta-dates with them might be easier than asking them out to dinner, but it still feels like there’s a lump in her throat.</p><p>“Yes! Absolutely. And can I get your number? I might as well have it if we’re gonna be friends.”</p><p>“For sure.”</p><p>Amy hands Jake her phone, where he proceeds to set up a contact photo (a snapshot of him sticking his tongue out.)</p><p>“So we’ll set it up sometime?” he asks.</p><p>“Of course. See you around!”</p><p>She wouldn’t admit it, but Amy feels like she’s walking on air as she heads home. Perhaps her luck isn’t so bad after all.</p>
<hr/><p>“Charles, thankyouthankyouthankyou-” Amy gushes, hugging him. She called him, caught a cab to his apartment, and she’s helping him carry his new (very heavy) Christmas tree in. Anything for the friend who helped her approach the one and only ‘cute tree salesman.’</p><p>“I barely did anything! He thought we were dating!” Boyle protests, hugging her back nonetheless. Boyles don’t deny hugs from good friends. Charles swears it dates back to some old Alaskan legend about huddling for warmth, which makes Amy roll her eyes.</p><p>“I don’t care about your family legends,” Amy says, hands on her hips. “We have a job to do, and I owe you one. Now how do you want to set up the tree?”</p><hr/><p>
  <b>[messages, 3:19 PM]</b>
</p><p><b>jake:</b> hey this is jake peralta! how does thursday sound? I have the day off</p><p><b>amy:</b> hey jake! what time works for you?</p><p><b>jake:</b> 12 PM? we could meet and get lunch</p><p><b>amy:</b> medici’s serves lunch????</p><p><b>jake:</b> medici’s only serves the best lunch in brooklyn<br/>
<b>jake:</b> people travel from all over the world to eat their food</p><p><b>amy:</b> all over the world, huh?<br/>
<b>amy:</b> I’ll take your word for it</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh Wonder is an actual indie band and they're SO GOOD. Please go listen if you want lyrics like "i'm pulling down stars just to make you glow", which is the cutest thing ever</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>First dates tend to be colored pink by the honeymoon effect.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey! How’s business?” Amy calls, waving and walking up to Jake’s side. It’s nice. being familiar enough to greet him.</p><p>“It’s going alright? All the pretty trees already got sold out and people have to settle for the not-so-pretty ones now.” He shrugs. “Their mistake. You off to the library or something?” His gaze flicks over her backpack.</p><p>“Nope, heading to class. Asian American art history, but it doesn’t start for a while.” Amy smiles, knowing she has time to spare and someone to spend it on.</p><p>“Hey, that’s cool! Is that for-” his voice drops. He gulps, eyes darting to the side. “To your left, indecisive lady who refuses to leave. She’s been here for an hour. I’ll legit pay you part of my commission if you pretend to be a customer and say you want that blue spruce.”</p><p>“Which one’s the spruce?! None of them are blue,” hisses Amy.</p><p>Jake smiles. “Tall one on the left, leaning like fifteen degrees, looks sort of sad and brown?”</p><p>“Gotcha. So, more of a brown spruce?” She puts on a plastic smile and walks toward the lady, blonde and probably in her forties. Jake watches Amy sidle up and cross her arms, invading the other customer’s space. They start talking and nodding, pointing and laughing at the upper branches of one of the trees. Twenty minutes later, blonde lady’s put down an offer on a northwestern fir with a bird’s nest tangled in its leaves.</p><p>“You are an actual miracle worker.”</p><p>“Thank you for recognizing my true potential, hardly anyone else does,” Amy brags. “See you at lunch later this week?”</p><p>“You got it. My treat, it’s the least I can do,” Jake says, and he admires her as she walks away.</p>
<hr/><p>Medici’s bakery does not serve lunch.</p><p>Medici’s decorates their cinnamon rolls with powdered sugar so fine, it looks like snow falling on a desert. Medici’s has actual polished silverware and cloth napkins for your lap. Medici’s food is so heavenly, one could hardly deign to describe with earthly words like <i>lunch</i> or <i>breakfast</i> or <i>sir, I’m sorry to say we’re closing, you and your date need to stop staring lovingly into each other’s eyes</i>. Amy’s getting nostalgic just thinking of the meal she had there.</p><p>It might’ve been the best meal of her life. One of those ‘before I die, I want lobster confit’ meals.</p><p>“And then what happened?” Amy asks, leaning forward. She tries to keep from staring at Jake’s tie (he wore a freaking tie to a New York café pretending to be an Italian bistro, as if he couldn’t get any cuter) and ends up fixed on his nice hair and his hands and his crooked, too-innocent-for-this-world smile.</p><p>Alright, maybe she’s exaggerating a little bit. First dates tend to be colored pink by the honeymoon effect 一 <i>good</i> first dates do, anyhow.</p><p>Medici’s cinnamon rolls, incidentally, have regular sugar on them, just like the ones from Cinnabon do. They’re not glazed over with fairy dust that looks like snow from the ski trails in Sun Valley, as one very enthusiastic food critic has claimed (they gave Boyle a lifetime member platinum card for that review.)</p><p>But, well, when you’re with someone who makes all the difficult things seem easier, it’s pretty easy to glamorize. Sugar crystals become diamonds in the rough.</p><p>“So I’m still trying to impress this guy at an afterparty for this awards show. He’s Bruce Willis’ second cousin’s wedding photographer’s best friend-”</p><p>“Naturally, a big deal in the Die Hard fandom,” Amy says in between bites of pasta.</p><p>“Yes! You get it.” Jake takes a sip from his water glass; he’d wanted orange soda but that seemed a tad embarrassing. Some tidbits you ought to save for the fifth date. “It’s pretty dark outside, and we’re drinking. Think, like, fancy lights scattered all around, women walking around with those clutch purses that must be easy to lose, caviar and other modern appetizers whose names I can’t pronounce. So I walk up.”</p><p>“Doing alright so far,” Amy teases.</p><p>“I shake the guy’s hand and introduce myself, and I sorta cringe on the inside ‘cause I’m talking too fast. I brush it off. I’m still determined to walk away with a great line.”</p><p>“What’d you do then?”</p><p>“So I shoot him a cool ‘welcome to the party, pal’, and I turn around. My friend Stevie’s still making jokes but I could use a breather, right? I do the only natural thing, I step aside. I’m gonna be back in a minute! Aaaaand, well, I’m not looking where I’m going until I walk straight into the swimming pool and drop like a <i>stone</i>. Cannonball, basically.”</p><p>Amy laughs so suddenly, she snorts. “Sorry. Sorry! Poor you. I really am sorry. I’m not laughing at you, really, it’s more like laughing with you-”</p><p>“Nah, you can make fun, everybody else does.”</p><p>“But I don’t want to be like everybody else,” Amy says then, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She lets her hand, twirling spaghetti around her fork, fall.</p><p>“Oh. Oh, um, thank you?”</p><p>Amy’s stomach tightens, and she wonders if she made the wrong move.</p><p>“Sorry! That was weird. I like you, I’m just not that good with people,” he fumbles, hands gripping at his cloth napkin beneath the table. It feels nice to have something to fidget with while he balances the truth like a Jenga tower.</p><p>She smiles. “I mean, the swimming pool story already proved that.”</p><p>“Did I mention my rented suit shrunk because of the water?”</p><p>She laughs with him (instead of at him) some more.</p><p>“The thing was two hundred bucks! I lost my deposit!”</p><p>But Jake thanks her with a kiss on the sidewalk when he walks her home, and another one when they’re pressed against the door to her apartment. He lays a final kiss on her cheek when he leaves.</p><p>Wow.</p><p>Cute christmas tree guy is <i>smooth</i> when he wants to be.</p>
<hr/><p>The next month, he brings flowers to her classroom at NYU, and Amy’s students all give Jake a not-so-subtle nod of approval.</p><p>“Hi, Jake,” she murmurs, class having just let out. The students stream out the door. “Lunch again?”</p><p>“You know it.”</p><p>While they’re walking to Medici’s, Amy gets lost in a tangent about how impractical it is that millionaires can own fossils and keep them away from public museums who clearly need them for Important Scientific Research™, but she’s so endearingly angry that he can’t interrupt her. Her voice is bright (can a voice <i>be</i> bright? it’s just a sound!) and she laughs at his awful anecdotes about working in retail. They take the same table as the one they had on their first date, and spend the afternoon curious over each other.</p><p>Amy’s flowers dry up, but she says the conversation’s worth it.</p><p>Medici’s ends up catering their wedding. They serve lobster confit.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you guys so much for reading! All finished with this AU, which feels weird to say -- usually my AUs take like 3 years to finish, not a month or so, but I guess I can finally cross "christmas tree seller AU" off my WIP list!</p><p>Anyways, your comments and kudos are so, so appreciated, and I hope to write more b99 fic in the future!</p><p>ALSO the swimming pool / hollywood afterparty story is absolutely real, it happened to an actress named elizabeth henstridge and I'm still dying thinking about it</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! I have ignored my WIPs and decided to start a new AU because, hello, I love AUs the way I love rain and autumn. They're highly underrated, and should be around all the time.</p><p>This AU is 100% based on that Friends episode where Joey sells christmas trees.</p><p>Comments and kudos are highly appreciated! Anyone who comments will get a 1-line preview of an upcoming chapter.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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